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“I could give two shits if you date anyone, Oscar. But Trent is your mate. A vampire who can’t be with their fated one is a pathetic husk.”

“Well, that was harsh. I?—”

One growl from Lillian stopped the words on Oscar’s tongue. She tapped on the glass of the window. Inside was some kind of basement common room.

“Let your eyes adjust,” she said. “That’s a couch, and a few folding chairs. A coffee table. What do you see on top of the table?”

Oscar peered into the darkness, his vampire sight allowing him more clarity than any human sense could achieve. His gaze fell upon an array of small rectangles covering the long, flat, dark-stained wooden surface.

“Shit.” Oscar punched the brick facade, and bits of red stone flew off, forming a cloud around his hand. “Pictures. Of me. And of Trent.”

Lillian nodded. “They might be old. They might not mean anything.”

Oscar sniffed, hoping to catch a whiff of fresh scent, some clue they could use, but all he got was diesel and rotting garbage. It smelled like New York.

“Or Elliott could be even more obsessed than before.” Oscar frowned.

“I think we need to end the stakeout. There’s more to learn inside,” Lillian said, standing up from her crouch and turning away from the old church. “We’ll come back with more people and force our way in.”

Oscar’s attemptat a mindless hookup had been a failure.

Not that he’d gone in with high hopes. But Trent had rejected him, and finding someone to have sexy times with had always made him feel better in the past. So he’d hit the apps, and it wasn’t long before he found a handsome jock to spend the night with. He was twenty-five, a hunky day trader who might as well have had “work hard, play hard” tattooed across his chest. A perfect candidate for a meaningless hookup.

That was the plan, anyway. The plan quickly went awry.

It was the odor. The man just didn’t smell right. It wasn’t that he smelledbad, per se, but Oscar yearned for the coffee and citrus that was Trent’s natural musk. Still, Oscar had powered through.

Until the guy had touched him. The minute the man’s fingers clutched at Oscar’s shirt, pulling it up and running along the skin of his lower back, he knew he couldn’t go through with it.

It wasn’t right. He didn’t want that man. He didn’t want any man. He wanted Trent.

But Trent didn’t want him.

A quick apology and he’d rushed out of the guy’s apartment and gone back to the covenhouse. In a perfect world, he would have slept, but Oscar was finding that sleep was a rare luxurythese days. But even vampires needed to catch an hour or two every so often.

His lack of sleep only amplified the pervasive dread he felt as he marched toward his doom. His doom being a rehearsal with Trent.

Also, why were they still doing the damn duet in the first place? They were trying to keep space from each other. Both of them had more important problems. Elliott was still alive and was likely still planning to kidnap him and kill Trent. Why work on the song at all?

In a word, Anthony.

The legendary persistence of the coven master’s mate was brought to bear on the two of them, and there was no escape. At least, not for Oscar. Trent could probably move to Japan or Holland or something to get away. But Oscar was stuck with his coven, and with Anthony.

“Right on time!” Anthony cried out with delight as Oscar entered the studio. Trent and Julie were already there. Trent hunkered down in the far corner on a short stool, his blonde hair covering his eyes. If Oscar didn’t know better, he’d say that Trent was sulking. That wasn’t really Trent’s way, but it certainly looked like it.

Oscar pulled out his score from his shoulder bag and sighed, avoiding eye contact with his unrequited mate. It was only an hour of rehearsal. He could survive an hour.

“Why don’t we start at the top?” Anthony asked, a smile in his voice. Oscar glanced at Julie, who was wearing a wry smirk. Shit. Had Trent told her that they’d hooked up? Did everyone have to know about this? So many cooks, while Oscar and Trent were attempting to shut down the damn kitchen.

“Why are we doing this?” Trent asked, and Oscar chuckled inwardly. He wasdefinitelysulking. At least Oscar wasn’t the only one being tortured by this rehearsal.

“We should be working on our audition material for next week,” Trent continued. “That’s what I would be doing if I didn’t have to be here.”

“Well, youdohave to be here. Because if you aren’t, you’ll fail the assignment,” Anthony said, not even looking up from scribbling away in his notebook.

Trent sighed loudly. Oscar couldn’t help but be tickled. He’d never seen Trent so overly dramatic. It was in total opposition to his normal Midwestern calm, and it was hilarious.

Oscar opened his mouth to make a snarky comment, but Julie launched into the introduction, her strong, slender fingers coaxing real power out of the aging grand piano.